In the Caverns
DragonsFire - Azarin - Tuesday, March 05, 2002, 6:27 PM
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--------------- Weather ----------------
It's currently early winter on the northern continent.
* Afternoon at Ista Hold:
A few clouds dot the warm blue sky.
* Afternoon at Ista Weyr:
A cool haze of dampness fogs the frost-chilled air.
* Midmorning at Fort Weyr, Fort Hold, Harper & Healer Halls:
The sky is clear and it's actually warm out!
* Midmorning at Southern Boll Hold, Weaver Hall:
Temperatures are mild, and there is a soft sea breeze.
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You go into the Living Caverns.
Living Cavern (#2070J)
This is the vaulted, high-ceilinged main gathering area of Ista Weyr, where
riders, residents and drudges congregate to socialize and make merry. Or even
just to eat. Long, sturdy tables fill most of the cavern in neat rows, two of
them hemming about the hearths that line the northeastern curve of the cavern.
Sideboards by the kitchen entrance groan beneath a constant burden of food and
drinks, kept fresh by the cooks and lower caverns staff.
You see Posted Notice, Kreen, and Emera here.
Rowan and Kyla are here.
Obvious exits:
Bowl Kitchen Lower Caverns
Kyla wanders in smothering a tiny yawn, blinking a few times to focus in the dim room. "Fog.." she mumbles, "Next will be mud." Klah mug is taken and filled before she settles down next to the hearth in an attempt to dry out.
Coming in just behind Kyla, Azarin manages to overhear her complaints about the weather. "It's not bad," he notes as he passes her to get a mug of juice. Turning back to her, he smiles and offers a nod. "M'name's Azarin, from Fort." And thus, of course, imune to the chill.
Kyla
Copper-caught auburn curls fall to midback and if one looks closely a few silver
tinged streaks mingle as well. Pale green eyes sparkle from her deep Istan tan
that dances over high cheeckbones and helps mask the feathering of fine lines
scattered over her face. A perpetual smile seems to hover over her full lips,
as if her lifemate is chattering to her constantly. Slight of form, narrow-boned,
she stands but five feet tall; her voice is a contrastingly rich, alto accented
by the subtle burr of Crom's foothills.
Wool dyed the shade of chantrelle mushrooms drops in this simple tunic, while
cream mock turtle neck peeps out from underneath. Sleeves are wide and rolled
to her elbows, while the rest of the outfit drapes about her comfortably. Oyster
grey tights, drop into charcoal grey boots that ride high on the calves.
Kyla is 36 Turns, 8 months, and 6 days old.
Kyla turns to look at who's addressing her, only to have to look 'up'. But when you're five feet, it's pretty common. "Um. Hi." Amazing, cute lads wandering around introducing themselves. Perhaps this isn't such a bad day. "Kyla here." And that's enough, unless you want the long version. "Snow I can deal with." She shares, "Grew up in Crom, but this silly Fog just leeches all warmth right out of you." Feet are propped up on an ottoman she drug over. "So how'd you come to be at Ista?"
"Zurry... Zureile," he corrects himself, before continuing, "brought me. She was up visiting Fort for some reason and we met there.. We grew up at Benden together." There. His whole life's story in one sentence. Impressed, aren't you? Moving closer, he motions to a chair next to the woman, "mind if I sit?" Polite too.
Was that a frown? You bet. As the Weyrwoman's name is mentioned, Kyla stiffens perceptibly. "Ah." Perhaps he has some dirt she can dig up on 'Zurry'. Heh. "It's a public place." Warm? Not really. She tries again. "Sure." Ah yes. Felt the fuzzies that time, didn't you?
Slumping into the chair, Aza only just manages to keep his juice /inside/ the mug and not spill it all over himself. Not noticing any changes to Kyla's face, he turns toward her. "I haven't seen her in..." Tilting his head slightly, he looks to be counting inside his head, "in.. 6 or 7 turns. And then out of the blue she lands right there in Fort's courtyard. On a gold dragon, no less." Looking quite impressed and proud of his childhood friend, his smile seem to get broader still, almost reaching his ears.
Kyla slants a look at him, smile not very apparent. "So, say..if she'd landed riding a /green/..it wouldn't have been as impressive. I see." She returns to blowing on her mug and staring into the fire. Note: Kyla did not introduce herself, nor does she have a knot on.
Azarin's frown lasts only for a moment, before his face brightens again. "Of course it would!" he insists, doing his best to sound convincing. "I never woulda expected her to ride a dragon. Of any color... But, I mean.. Y'know, a gold is hardly as... Common as greens." Digging a deeper and deeper hole for himself, it seems with his rambling. Of course, having seen no knot on her shoulder, he doesn't know who, or what rank this woman holds, so he just keeps on going, senselessly, "I mean, y'know, there's a /lot/ of green dragons, right? Queens are more rare." At least he knew /that/ much about weyrs, and dragons. "You'd have to be pretty special to ride gold... Right?"
Kyla doesn't answer at first, rather she sits there, gaze firmly affixed on the fire in front of her, hands holding her mug at mouth level. Only indication that perhaps this isn't her favorite conversation topic would be the white knuckles. "Lots of green dragons." she echoes, sarcasm rich and heavy. "And oh so few Gold dragons. Thank Faranth. In my small amount of experience at a Weyr, the gold riders are the worst of the lot." Ah yes, let's bury him here. "Picky about their clothes, who does their hair, who helps them oil those ridiculously large beasts." Ah, there's a smile lurking on her lips, "Who gets to care for their most recent brats." She takes a small swallow, "Yes. Thank Faranth there aren't as many as greens."
"Zurry's nice!" Azarin blurts out, blinking at the woman as he doesn't get what she's talking about. Of course, it /was/ Zureile who'd made him cut his hair. "She... She had me cut my hair. Looks much better now." So why doesn't he sound very convincing? "It was all long, and greasy 'n stuff before." Chewing on his lower lip, he falters somewhat in his defence of his old friend, and disguises his loss for words by taking a long swallow from his mug.
Kyla quirks a brow, "Ah yes. You've not seen her in eight turns, she's impressed a dragon and changed more than you can ever know. But.." Sarcasm is her specialty at times, "she's /nice/." She shrugs, "Obviously you'd know. Short hair and all."
"Well, I knew her for thirteen turns before then," Azarin mutters, his eyes going everywhere but this woman. And how would he know what Impressing a dragon would do to you anyway? "She's not that different, really.. And this hair's not so bad." Still not being convincing, he shakes his head, blinking in confusion that strands of hair are /not/ dancing around his shoulders with the motion. "What's your name?" he suddenly asks, realizing that she hadn't introduced herself.
Kyla did actually say her name and repeats it again, sans any other information. "Kyla." She watches him drolly as he shakes his head. "And I suppose the haircut looks ok. Not too crooked." She narrows her eyes and drops out a little tickle of information, "Not nearly as bad as when Zureile hacked her own hair. You really should have known about that before you let her at you with scissors."
"Kyla..." Muttering the name a couple of times under his breath, Azarin tries to remember how it was it had come up in his conversations with Zureile. Something about hair, actually. "She said you liked boys with long hair.. And she didn't cut my hair. Someone else did. Can't remember her name now..." Draining the rest of his juice, he sets the mug down on the table, flashing a smile at her. "So what d'you do around here?"
Kyla tries to follow the lad's wanderings only to shake her head in confusion. "No idea what 'Zurry' said about me and hair." Finger waggles at a drudge and her mug is quickly refilled. This action in itself seems to hint at a bigger position than her next words imply. "I work here." And she does, sometimes. Gaze is finally brushed over his features, a small furrow between her brows. "Long hair would help make you look less gaunt." And now back to blowing on the magically refilled klah.
Azarin blinks.. "But... Zurry said it would bring out my eyes," he says. So maybe the boy is slightly vain, but that was all Zureile's fault, the rider and her persuation skills. And poor Aza is easily convinced. Just that one little note from Kyla, already has him doubting that he's made the right decision by cutting his hair. "It'll grow out again," he says, looking down at his hands, fingers knotting together in nervours movements.
Kyla rolls her eyes slightly at his reaction. "Yes it will continue to grow. Hair does that." Green eyes dart towards the bowl and she frowns slightly, before leaning forward to abandon her mug on the table. "Seems I have some of that work to do." As she stands, hands automatically smoothing her sweater. "Nice meeting you Azarin." And with that she heads out to the bowl, just ignore those handful of young riders popping salutes her way.
Kyla walks out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.
You walk out of the Living Caverns into the bowl.